Niall Horan's Fake Fat Girlfriend

Chapter 1

Niall Horan's Fake Fat Girlfriend Chapter 1: The Concert

~Chapter 1~

I woke up with a slight headache and an increasingly sore body. Slowly, very slowly, I open my eyes to revile my 13 year old sister Charlotte staring at me. I jump and hit her, just a reflex.

90% reflex.

"OWW!" she said as she stood up from her position on the floor.

"That's what you get when I wake up to someone on top of me." I told the brunette haired beauty.

"Well, hurry up and get ready. I'm not going to miss my future husband because you aren't awake." she retorted.

I grumbled as I remember the day. Today I was taking my sister to the One Direction concert on their World Tour or Gay Tour or Garage Band Tour for all I knew. Charlotte had loved the trendsetting boy band since their first of many #1 singles What Makes You Beautiful came out just like the rest of the world. I personally never saw the appeal in a thing so stupid but found her love for the band quite cute.

That is until, somehow, my mom roped ME into taking her to the concert. saying she would rather blow her eardrums out with needles. And I didn't HATE the band, necessarily, so I was the only way my sister would get to live her dream.

And if I wasn't excited enough, my mom even sprung for backstage passes.

Lucky me.

So I swallowed my pride and my self of shame and started to get ready.

Now, growing up I was never the pretty girl. My family was unique, with my Irish Dad and Spanish mom, my older brother and younger sister were both incredibly beautiful. Filled with my mothers Latin blood and olive skin and rich chocolate curly hair, and then there was me. Getting my dad's pale skin, straight blonde hair and worst of all, his metabolism. My whole family could eat 20 lbs of food and still weigh lighter than paper, but for some reason, I think God might hate me, every time I eat an apple I gain 15. Now, I wasn't morbidly obese but it definitely was a problem. I was only 16 and weigh 200 lbs.

Last year I was over 250 lbs. I was the fat girl in school with only two friends. The loser walking around in headphones so that she could block out the outside world. At my school and in my life it seemed, I needed to be skinny to get noticed and I hated myself. Always wearing long sleeves to cover my arms. No tight pants to show anything I didn't want seen. Always covering my ankles so no one could see my fat. Flinching every time I heard someone whispering or saw someone pull out a camera, scared I was the punch line of the joke. I was the picture they would laugh at. I was tired it. So I took matters into my own hands.

I started cutting. And at that point, I was so unhappy that it didn't even hurt. I would go days without eating then I finally would and I would make myself puke. And it started to work. My waist got smaller as my wrists got rawer. I started to enjoy the pain. I started to close out the growling in my stomach after days without nutrition and I would ignore the tight feeling in my jaw after leaning over the toilet for 20 minutes, but I still couldn't ignore the stares, or the giggling, or the smirking. I lost around 50 lbs until my friend caught on.

Her name is Alice and she is my rock. She came in one day while I was puking and then she noticed my wrists bleeding. She bandaged me up and I cried in her arms all night. She is constantly on my case about it and I have to always tell her how I am and if I'm having those feelings again, part of the deal that she doesn't tell anyone. My other best friend is named Kyle. He's really cool and really funny. Him and Alice are totally in love with each other and just won't admit it. If he ever found out what I did last year I could never face him again. Anyway, I haven't cut in 7 months although the scars on my arms still remind me of what I went through. I still want to but I know that I can't. I just think what my mom would say if she found out, or God forbid if Charlotte did. I couldn't handle it.

Speak of the devil, she comes in just as I was putting on my long black shirt and loose fitting jeans.

"Eww! No, Carson. You can't do this to me! You can't wear THAT to meet One Direction! You don't hate me that much do you?" Charlotte exclaimed while walking into my room.

Ouch.

"What do you mean? I always wear this." Looking at myself in the mirror and almost gagging.

'You look fat in everything you wear.' That's my subconscious, or the razor, as I call her. It's easier. She pops up a lot.

"Yes!" Charlotte jerks me away from my mind. "But, you don't always meet One Direction! No protesting. I am in charge of everything you wear tonight."

Oh no.

Before I could protest she pulls me into her room and sits me down in front of her vanity. Mom offered to get me one too, but I didn't need more mirrors in my life. She starts curling my long straight hair and then puts weird powders and creams on my face that I can't even pronounce. I'm not a makeup person. I say, why bother? But Charlotte seems to be the expert, so I let whatever happens, happen. Char is very hot headed and always gets what she wants.

20 minutes later I am standing in front of a mirror with the one pair of nice black jeans I own and a flowy purple top. I didn't even know that I owned this. Char curled my hair beautifully and put on something she called a 'flower crown'. I looked good. For me.

"Ok. Now I can leave the house with you."

She wasn't helping.

"I'm glad." I said forcing a smile. "Now can we please go and get this over with?"

Char looked offended. "Carson! One does not simply get One Direction over with. They admire greatly and then respectfully praise."

"Well, can we praise on the way there, I don't want to be there longer than I have to." I said rolling my eyes.

~End of Chapter~